The Road to Peace
by villena.joboy
Summary: They say Skyrim is a land of banditry, disasters, and monsters. Its own citizens have considered it a lost cause. But the simplest of minds can bring about the greatest of change. It just needs the freedom to act, and the guidance of friends. Join the Dragonborn as he goes on an adventure to bring peace to Skyrim.
1. Valtheim Towers and Lockjaw's Gang

The man in the iron helmet ran.

 _This is bad,_ he said to himself.

He jumped over fallen tree branches. He bulldozed any deer or wolf that got in his way.

His companion has been kidnapped, and he had to get her back no matter what. He never leaves a friend behind.

It was stupidly simple how it happened. They lured him with mead, snatched her, and got away on a horse. Lucky for him, the gang that kidnapped her accidentally dropped a journal that revealed where they were living.

There would be hell to pay.

* * *

 _Valtheim Towers_

Lydia struggled with her wrists, trying to break free of the rope that held her hands behind her back, as she sat inside one of the twin structures of Valtheim Towers. In front of her was a bandit on guard, watching her intently in case she tries any tricks.

"It's no use, darling," said the bandit. "I ain't ever tied a knot that had ever been escaped in. When I get someone, they're locked with me. That's why they call me Lockjaw! Well that, and because of how I look, of course."

Lockjaw's teeth were all wooden, he had a peg leg, and his jaw seemed to be replaced with metal, hence the name. This was a man who has seen hundreds of battles, and have been injured more times than anyone can imagine. And with those injuries come fighting experience.

"Do you really think you can keep me here, Lockjaw?" Lydia asked, raising one eyebrow. "Because I saw you drop your journal. My thane will find me, and he's stronger than all of you combined."

"You can put on a brave face all you want. But the fact is, your little friend is gonna try to rescue you here, and he's gonna die to my men. Just look at what he has to face here," Lockjaw pointed out the door and at the bridge connecting the two towers of Valtheim. "Before he gets to you, your friend has to face the fiercest gang in the entire Whiterun Hold..."

Lockjaw began to describe his gang to Lydia. The gang was lined up at the bridge that connected the Valtheim towers. Positioned farthest from Lydia and Lockjaw was The Fencer, who was a former member of The Companions, and was one of their most skilled swordsmen, until he was kicked out for being too bloodthirsty.

Then, there were The Wolfpack Twins, famous among bandits for having unmatched synchronization in their movements, making it nearly impossible for them to be beaten by a single enemy.

After them was Ulfgar the Trickster, armed with a bow. He has a unique skill of being able to curve his arrows, making them very tricky to dodge or to block.

After him was Stard Iron-Club, the largest of the gang. He had a 10,000-septim bounty, and was infamous for killing everyone who crossed him, with only a single blow to the head with his spiked, iron club. His biceps were the size of a watermelon, and his club was twice the normal size.

"These men all work for me, Lydia," Lockjaw knelt down in front of the captive woman, and leveled his head with hers. "Your little friend... When he comes here, he's gonna fight my men." Lockjaw drew his face closer to Lydia. "And he's gonna die." Lockjaw's face drew closer and closer with every sentence. "You'll go back to being my slave. And you will never escape. Forever."

Lockjaw's face was only an inch away from Lydia's at this point. Lydia took this opportunity to give him a headbutt. Her head jerked forward and hit Lockjaw in the nose, making it drip blood. In his frustration that Lydia would dare try such a thing, Lockjaw hit her face with a backhand. "That was most unwise, Lydia!" He then punched her straight to the mouth. It was strong enough to make her lip bleed, but her teeth were tough enough to remain intact.

Lockjaw looked at his fist, which was bright red, as if he had just punched a concrete wall. Lydia's bones were tougher than he remembered. But she didn't have to know that. "You're lucky I don't want to ruin your pretty face, slave," he said as he glared at her. "But when your friend gets here, and we kill him? I'm gonna make you clean out the entire Valtheim Towers with your tongue. I'm gonna test the sharpness of all my swords and all my arrows on your hands. I'm gonna cut off your feet so that every time you need to go anywhere, you have to crawl like a dog. Before bedtime comes, ohhh the things I'm gonna do to you... You couldn't even begin to imagine." He then whacked her in the face with a backhand one more time for good measure.

"What is wrong with you, you sadistic fuck?!" Lydia exclaimed, her eyes welling up.

"Let's just say it's been a looooooong week..." Lockjaw faced upwards, recalling what had transpired with him and his gang. "First we had our den taken over by a bunch of redguards. Black motherfuckers led by a mercenary." He then went to his table, grabbed a mug of ale, and started chugging.

"Then, because of that, the Bandit Lord Greira the Spider said that her people will no longer be giving us protection. Said we were useless!" He threw his mug to the wall in frustration. The mug bounced back and fell to the ground, with a crack on the side that touched the wall. "Can you believe it? We're the fiercest gang in this Hold, and she's calling us useless?!"

"But things are turning around lately. We were able to take over this fort, and then I found you again, and I'm gonna get my sweet, sweet little slave back." He looked at Lydia with a devilish grin. The woman was holding back tears of uncontrollable rage.

"Aaaahhhh!"

There was suddenly a scream from outside of the tower that Lockjaw and Lydia were in. Lockjaw rushed to the door, looked out to the other side of the bridge, and saw _him_. Lydia's thane.

The man had a horned, iron helmet. Underneath the helmet was a neck-length, unkempt brown hair, a light stubble on his face, and eyes full of unbridled fury. He was a slight bit less than two meters tall, which was pretty normal for a Nord, but for a guy of this height, his body was _huge_. Judging by his looks, he was easily three hundred pounds of pure muscle.

To go along with his iron helmet, all his other gear were also iron. He wielded an iron shield, and an iron sword, and he was also wearing a pair of iron gauntlets and iron boots. His body armor was a chainmail; constructed of interlocking loops of iron, woven into a short-sleeved shirt. All the gear of this iron man looked to be finely made; the pieces of armor and shield were definitely polished in a workbench, and the sword had definitely seen a grindstone. Ordinarily, no normal bandit or citizen could afford that kind of gear, because iron is expensive, and so are smithing services. If Lockjaw had to guess, this man was a either a miner, a rich man, or a blacksmith himself.

Right next to the iron man laid a dead body. It was the body of The Fencer, the skilled ex-Companion member of Lockjaw's gang.

"What the fuck?!" Lockjaw shrieked. "I thought that guy was our best swordsman? Explain this!"

Stard Iron-Club, the gigantic brute who was closest to Lockjaw, was the one to answer. "This man is probably fifty pounds larger than The Fencer and is wearing _iron_ , while the only "armor" you gave us are fur and animal hides. Seriously, we might as well just be wearing a tunic. It doesn't matter how skilled The Fencer is; he was at a severe disadvantage."

Stard folded his arms. "But don't worry. This is a long bridge, and there's still the Wolfpack Twins and Ulfgar. They should be able to beat him, or at least wear him down to let me crush him."

The Wolfpack twins glared at the iron man, one of them with a sword and one of them unarmed. The iron man raised his sword forward and alternately pointed the tip at them, to intimidate them from charging at him at the same time.

Wolfpack One suddenly pulled out a chain, which was hidden from inside the sleeve of his clothing. He wrapped the chain around the iron man's sword arm, and pulled as hard as he can to keep it from moving. Without needing to be ordered, Wolfpack Two immediately charged onto the iron man, confident that the sword won't swing at him. He raised his own axe, about to slash at the enemy, who raised his shield in defense. But the axe was a fake-out, and instead, Wolfpack Two grabbed hold of the iron man's other arm.

"Ulfgar, NOW!" the twins shouted.

The Twins have successfully disabled both of the attacker's arms. All that's left to do is for their archer to pierce his neck with an arrow.

Ulfgar the Trickster drew his bowstring back, and fired an arrow.

As it drew closer, the iron man suddenly lowered his head, and the arrow crashed and broke apart on his helmet. "Hah! Your arrow craftsmanship is pathetic!" he exclaimed, his voice mighty and loud.

And with the strength of his arms alone, he dragged the Wolfpack Twins all the way over the edge of the Valtheim Bridge. Though they resisted, the iron man's strength was too much, and they slid over and fell out of the bridge.

"Give me back my friend, you weak skeever-scats!" he shouted to the remaining bandits.

"Fuck! How strong _is_ this guy?!" said Lockjaw in a panicked voice. This was more humiliating than their defeat at the hands of the Redguard mercenaries. Was the Bandit Lord Greira right about them? Were they really that useless?

In contrast to his boss, Stard Iron-Club had his arms crossed, and remained calm as he watched the fight.

The archer Ulfgar started to focus. This punk thinks he has this won? They didn't call him Ulfgar the Trickster for nothing.

The iron man then started to march forward, his shield covering his exposed mouth and neck area, which were the only vital spots not covered by his armor.

"Oh you think you're safe with that, do you?" Ulfgar asked smugly.

Ulfgar jumped to the air and spun around as he fired an arrow slightly to the side of his opponent. As the arrow flew past the iron man's side, it suddenly curved towards his neck.

At the last second, the iron man noticed the arrow trickery and ducked to avoid it. "Shit, what was that?" he said.

"Hah, you've never seen an arrow curve before?" Ulfgar said as he landed gracefully. "That's because I'm the only one in Tamriel who can do it!" He leaped and spun around again, and this time fired two arrows. Both of them curved around the shield once again.

The iron man ducked again to dodge one of the arrows, but the other one was fired a little lower, and was able to pierce him on his sword arm, which wasn't covered by his armor. "Agh!" he screamed.

Ulfgar jumped up again to do another arrow trickery.

"Okay, enough of that arrow bullshit," said the iron man before leaping forward like a saber cat, making an amazing jump twelve feet horizontally, and as he reached Ulfgar, he smashed down the archer's head with his iron shield. The archer was spiked straight down, and his face was planted into the bridge.

"Shit!" Lockjaw screamed from inside his tower. "Shit, shit, shit! That's fucking cheating! How can a guy that large be that agile?" He paced back and forth in front of Lydia, who had a smug smile on her face. "Iron-Club!" Lockjaw called out. "You had better take care of this!"

On the bridge, Stard Iron-Club crossed his arms as his eyes met with the attacker. The two Nord warriors stared at each other, sizing each other up, observing how the other looked. Stard definitely towered over the iron man, whose height only reached his shoulders. And it wasn't just height either; Stard's body was huge compared to the other warrior. To any outside observer, the iron man would stand no chance.

But Stard could see in the iron man's eyes that he had much more to offer than what he had shown so far.

The iron man pulled out the arrow that Ulfgar had lodged in his sword arm. He grunted and started bleeding profusely, so he took out a piece of bandage from the pouch in his waist, and wrapped up the wound. Stard just stood there and let him be.

Lydia, who was also watching the fight from the window of the tower, said Lockjaw, "Your henchman seems honorable, unlike _you_."

The gang leader laughed and replied, "That's because he's simply looking for a challenge. The possibility that there might be someone who can give him a good fight? He tends to get excited about that. He _is_ a true Nord, after all. But I don't mind. Because so far, everyone who has ever fought him one-on-one had been killed."

Lockjaw took another mug of ale, chugged it down, and slammed the now-empty mug on the table. "In fact, my gang members come and go. The trickster? The wolfpack twins? They're like my third replacements already. But Stard? Ohhh that man never loses. He kills everyone in one hit. Your friend in the iron helmet here is gonna be no exception. Ha ha ha ha!"

"Are you ready?" Stard asked his opponent.

The iron man pointed his sword at the monster of a man he was gonna face, with a huge grin and a confident expression. "Are _you_?" he replied.

Stard picked up his massive, spiked Iron Club with one hand, and went to his stance. His unarmed left hand forward, his club-wielding right hand back.

The iron man's stance was opposite; his sword arm forward, and his shield arm back.

Then they began to dance.

Not a graceful dance, of course. Nords are brave, strong, and a lot of other things, but what the are not, is graceful. They are brutal and aggressive.

But as aggressive as they are, they also know that they have to be careful, because one clean hit could mean the end for both of them. So they play it safe. They swing their weapons with all the might and force one would expect from Nords, but at a distance. They watch each other's body language, see how they telegraph their movements, and avoid the opposing strikes with both agility and good footwork. Neither of them were letting themselves get hit, because the iron man was wielding a sword while Stard is wearing fur, which offered exactly zero protection and was basically just clothing. And on the other hand, although the iron man was wearing armor, Stard was wielding a gigantic club, and the force of his swings would basically ensure he does heavy damage even with an armored foe.

After a long series of whiffs from both fighters, Stard decided he had judged his opponent enough. The weakness of his opponent's stance was that the weapon is always pointed forward. It makes it hard for normal opponents to get close, but the iron man must be mad if he thinks Stard was a normal opponent. Because Stard can just grab the sword by the blade, ignoring any pain, and pull his opponent towards him.

He did exactly that, and as the iron man was pulled towards him, Stard swung his mighty club and hit the iron man straight to the temple. Even through the iron helmet, Lydia and Lockjaw thought it looked like a killing blow. The man's skull has got to be crushed after that.

The iron man staggered backwards and wobbled a bit, but surprisingly, his skull wasn't crushed. It might be his helmet, or his head's natural durability, but he remained conscious. He shook off the pain and stood firm and straight, and readied himself to continue the fight.

"That's impressive," Stard remarked. "This is the first time anyone has lived through a swing of my club."

The iron man was breathing heavily. "My helmet is pretty cool huh…? I actually... made it... myself..." the iron man replied.

"So you're a blacksmith. Too bad for you, I have your sword."

Stard showed the iron sword to his opponent, clutched by the blade in his bloody left hand, stolen from the owner in the midst of their fight. "You're weaponless now. You lost. Go back home. I'd like to fight you again when you're stronger."

"Not until I get Lydia back!" he said angrily, though he was short on breath. "If you think I've already lost here... Just because I don't have my weapon... You're seriously underestimating me."

"And what do you think you can do?" Stard asked, offended that this man still thinks he can win. "You can't take another hit. In fact..."

Stard threw the iron sword over the bridge to make sure his opponent can't get it back. It took a full two seconds for both of them to hear it splash on the river below the bridge. Then, Stard clutched his gigantic iron club with his two massive hands. "If you continue this foolishness, I'll make damn sure you won't survive."

"Two hands!" Lockjaw screamed. "This is the first time I've seen that brute use two hands! Do you see that, Lydia? One hand and your boy almost dies. With two hands, Stard is gonna fucking crush his skull to dust!"

Lydia remained silent and stone-faced as she watched.

"Last chance!" Stard warned.

"Come on!" the iron man replied confidently.

Stard charged forward at the iron man.

"FUS!"

The iron man roared as he summoned the power of The Voice. A power possessed only by those with great willpower and dedication. A power as great as that of the dragons.

The force he let out of his mouth flew at the speed of sound onto his opponent's unprotected face, and it hit like a small cannon. Blood spat out from Stard's nose as he stumbled backwards, no longer aware of where he was or what was happening. He fumbled and searched for something... _anything_ to hold onto, just to remain standing. But in his moving around, he accidentally stepped off the edge of the bridge and fell down.

"Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!"

Screams were heard, both from Stard as he fell down, and from Lockjaw as he repeatedly slammed his fist on the table in anger.

"This is all your fault, Lydia!" he screamed, his voice a mixture of panic and rage. He did a vicious kick to the side of Lydia's head, making her fall down on her side. Immediately after, Lockjaw mounted on top of Lydia and pounded his fist into her head like a jackhammer. "You didn't tell me he could use The Voice! That was dirty, you fucking milk-drinker! I was having the worst week of my life! And you had to make it worse!"

Due to having her hands tied, and having been mounted on, Lydia couldn't defend herself. But she could endure. She always has. And Lockjaw wasn't quite so tough. Years and years of fighting led to him being injured so many times, destroying his own body, weakening him. His fists felt like they were made of glass right now. There really was such a thing as _too much_ experience.

Lydia just closed her eyes and planned to let the blows come until the man gets tired.

Just a few seconds later, she heard Lockjaw make choking sounds, and the fists stopped coming.

She opened her eyes and saw her friend in the iron helmet clutching Lockjaw at his neck.

"Get your hands off of my friend," he demanded.

He then nonchalantly threw the gang leader out the window.

* * *

Without any bandits, the Valtheim Towers were quiet, especially at night. It was a place where one could lie down, relax, and just listen to nature. The sound of the river running below the bridge, the sound of the crickets chirping audibly in the grasses outside, and sometimes, the sounds of the wolves howling at the moons Masser and Secunda.

As Lydia laid down in a bed inside a tower, holding a bag of cold, cold, Skyrim water over her bruised and swollen head, she smiled as she soaked in the peaceful night that was gifted to her by The Divines after a long and stressful day.

In fact, this entire year had been a rollercoaster ride for her. She was a slave for Lockjaw's gang back when they were living in Swindler's Den, and then she managed to run away, and then she found work as a guard, and then a dragon attacks, and before she knew it she was the housecarl for the Thane of Whiterun, the man in the horned iron helmet. It had been a doozy.

It seemed like only yesterday when she was working for Lockjaw. She would sweep the floors, wash the dishes, clean the waste buckets, and get tied up and whipped when she forgets to do even one of those chores. She would get beaten with a chair for being too friendly with the henchmen. She would get beaten for seemingly no reason other than that Lockjaw was sadistic and took pleasure in seeing her in pain. She would sometimes attempt to take her own life, but the gang always kept an eye on her so she wouldn't do that. Death was freedom, and Lockjaw wouldn't have that. She was to be a slave for all of eternity.

But one day, when Swindler's Den was raided by a gang of rival bandits, Lockjaw and his men went all out in the battle. Stard was there destroying everyone he came across. About ten other gang members (who Lydia couldn't remember) were there too, But the numbers advantage were at the enemy. Eventually, Lockjaw's gang would prevail anyways, because they were good fighters. But when the battle was over, they would find that Lydia was no longer there.

Lydia would later make her way to Whiterun, where she would work various jobs. She chopped wood, hunted deer, sold pelts, delivered goods, and occasionally beat someone into intimidation (she didn't like it, but she needed money) and hunted down thieves and scammers. Nothing stable, and she was still living to serve, but at least she was out of Lockjaw's hands. Due to her experience as a slave, she was very disciplined and professional about everything, but it made her seem cold and unfriendly to the people around her.

Eventually, Proventus Avenicci, the steward of Jarl Balgruuf himself, would approach her, having heard of her exploits throughout Whiterun. He would give her a stable job as a Whiterun guard, stationed at the Cloud District. She would happily accept.

And during her service, she would still be strictly professional and aloof, and the other guards would consider her unfriendly, so as a result, she always she tended to be alone. She was fine with that. A lifetime of hell tends to make one have a much easier time being content with what they have.

Then a dragon would attack the Western Watchtower, where a visitor would heroically take down the dragon, and be hailed as the Thane of Whiterun. Lydia would be chosen as his housecarl, and she would accept the job without hesitation.

On the day she met the Thane of Whiterun, the man seemed to have no idea what was going on. So she respectfully described her duties to him. _"The jarl has recognized you as a person of great importance. And as my thane, I'm sworn to your service. I'll guard you and all you own with my life."_

But the thane shook his head in disapproval. _"No, no, no. I want none of that crap!"_

 _"Well, sorry, that's what it says on my job description. Do you not want my service? Because you don't have to-"_

 _"Wait, wait. How about this? You forget about that servitude and guarding nonsense, and we can become friends instead? We can travel together as adventurers and go around the world. Maybe you can help me fulfill my goal?"_

 _"Goal?"_

 _"Yep. You'd better jot down this date so you can tell your grandchildren you've heard it here first! I'm gonna bring peace to Skyrim."_

Lydia tried to hold back her laughter when she heard that. Skyrim was a place that was falling apart. There was a civil war that's driving everyone apart. And with the war thinning out all the soldiers, bandits were bolder than ever. Farms were being raided, travellers and traders were being mugged, food and other resources were getting more expensive, and more recently, dragons are roaming around... Skyrim was tearing itself apart from the inside. And this man, this _one_ man, thinks he can solve all of that? He must be insane.

But she remembered what he said earlier.

 _"We can become friends."_

 _Friends._

After a lifetime of living only for herself, she never thought she'd have someone say this to her. This was a crazy guy who was gonna drag her around the world on some insanely dangerous adventures, probably trying to make peace with the bloodthirsty savages of Skyrim.

But the fact that he wanted to be her friend? She just couldn't refuse.

Maybe now that Lockjaw is gone, she could finally forget about these flashes of the past, and move forward with her life.

She was done recollecting how she got here. She shifted in her bed, and sat up. She looked out the window, at the night sky, and wondered what lies ahead for her.

From a distance, she could faintly hear the voice of her thane, cheering loudly and happily. The voice drew closer and closer, until she heard footsteps right by her.

"I found it, Lydia! My iron sword!" he cheerfully said.

"That's wonderful! It didn't get washed away by the river under the bridge, it seems!" Lydia replied.

"Heh, can you believe it? I found it stuck between some rocks by the side of the river. I guess ol' Alvor was right; when you put your heart and soul into your weapons, it'll never let you go."

"Is Alvor your smithing teacher, my thane?"

"Yeah, kind of. I worked at his forge when I was at Helgen after the dragon attack. Oh, and don't call me 'thane'. I told you, I don't do that whole formal... authority... power kind of crap. Just call me Erland."

Erland sat down by a table, and started pouring mead into a mug. Of course, they were all leftovers from when Lockjaw was running the towers, but the gang was gone, and a good mead must never _ever_ be wasted.

"Why did you do it?" Lydia asked Erland. "Why did you risk your life for me? I'm not anyone special, and you barely know me."

Erland blinked, and then put his drink down.

"Well, to tell you the truth, it's because you're the first one who actually wanted to come with me. Everyone else turns me down when I say I wanna bring peace to Skyrim. It's like everyone has given up! No one believes in peace anymore!"

Lydia chuckled. Maybe he needed her as much as she needed him. After years of unwilling service to a cruel bandit, maybe this time, she has found someone whom she can swear loyalty and service to _willingly_. Even if he doesn't want it.

Her lips were still sore, her head was swollen, she was full of bruises, and it had generally been a stressful day. But she had never been happier in her life.

"Don't worry, my thane- I mean, Erland," Lydia said reassuringly. "If there's anyone who can bring peace to Skyrim, it's you."


	2. Erland's Backstory

"Should we take these weapons stored by Lockjaw's gang, Erland?" asked Lydia as she began packing her things into her knapsack. It was near sunrise in Valtheim Towers, and they needed to get away before the place was raided, either by one of Lockjaw's rival gangs, some bounty hunters looking to have their heads, or the Whiterun guards.

"No, no, no. On principle, I don't wield anything that I didn't make," replied Erland as he was doing push-ups. Aside from making top-notch armor, he had to maintain his physical fitness if he wanted to take on the bandits of Skyrim. "Oh, feel free to take some if you want. But I'm warning you, I took a look at them last night and they're all garbage. That steel sword you have is much better."

"Oh, okay then," Lydia said before continuing to pack up. Let's see, they needed food and drinks, bandages, painkiller potions, regeneration potions, and the most important necessity for any adventurer in the harsh, cold land of Skyrim: a woodcutting axe for gathering firewood. Nordic skin was especially thick and resistant to the cold, but they would still succumb to hypothermia if they were caught in a blizzard or rain without a warm campfire.

Lydia then stood up and checked herself out in the mirror. She started fixing her long, black hair, holding it up in a bun so it wouldn't get in her eyes when fighting off bandits or wild animals. She checked her armor; a standard for Whiterun Hold guards, with steel scales laced into a short-sleeved shirt in overlapping rows resembling the scales of a reptile. It seemed to be in good condition. Her boots and gloves had no armor; they were made of fur, and they didn't seem to be falling apart or in need of maintenance either. As far as what she's wearing, she was ready to go.

As Lydia checked to see if they had everything they needed, she decided to start up a conversation. "So what's your story, Erland?"

"What do you mean 'my story'?" asked Erland quizzically.

"I mean why are you here? A man who's adventuring alone, striving to bring peace in Skyrim... _Something_ must have happened to you in the past. Do you have a family?"

"Oh, you're asking about my backstory? Well, I was caught crossing the border, so they restrained me and put me in a carriage, and took me to Helgen and tried to cut off my head. But then this dragon appeared and destroyed the entire village."

"Hold on... _What?_ " Lydia scratched her head. Erland recounted way too many horrifying events for her emotions to catch up. "Could you uh... Go into more details?"

"Well, to tell you the truth I had no idea about _anything_ was happening the entire time I was there being arrested by the Imperials. Luckily, there was a rebel fella' there explaining things. Turns out there's a whole _army_ of rebels called 'Stormcloaks', who were fighting against the Empire. I got mixed up with them during a skirmish, and before I knew it I was about to be beheaded along with the Stormcloak leader. As I knelt down and laid my head on the chopping block, all I could think was... _Damn it, I just got here_."

"That... is quite peculiar. Normally before death, people would think about their family, or their loved ones, or their regrets in life."

"Hah, no regrets here! My life is awesome! So anyways, before the executioner could drop his axe on my head, this large, spiky black dragon appeared, he made it rain fire, and the entire village was destroyed. Including the fella' who was supposed to kill me."

"Wow, Erland, you talk about death and destruction in such a casual tone. So how did you escape?"

"Remember that rebel fella' I mentioned? Well his name is Ralof, and he had a next door neighbor named Hadvar, and... well, long-story short the three of us ran underground and escaped through a tunnel. So yeah, that's my backstory."

"Huh? That's it? That still leaves me with _so many questions_."

"Lydia, if you make me talk too much, my voice is gonna break."

"I'm sorry!" Lydia stood up and bowed down.

Erland just had a hearty laugh. He had to drop down and stop his push-ups because he was laughing so hard he couldn't catch his breath. "Ha ha ha! There you go again Lydia, you sensitive, over-polite little milk-drinker. I was just kidding! Stop worrying so much about offending me. I'm not your master. We're friends. You're not used to this whole 'friends' thing are you?"

Lydia paused at first, unsure of how to respond to that, and then just sat down and said, "Y-Yeah... But I don't wanna talk about my past."

"Oh that's good, because I don't care," replied Erland as he stood up, wiped off his sweat with a piece of clothing, and then sat back down on the bed. "The important thing is, we're going to Ivarstead so I can learn more about The Voice."

"Alright. We're all set to go," Lydia said, lifting two knapsacks and presenting them to her companion.

"Yeeeaaah, about that..." Erland said slowly. "I want you to carry all my stuff."

Lydia felt her sweat drop and her heart rate rise. There was enough mead in Erland's knapsack to fill a mammoth. Plus there was also a _really heavy_ dragon bone that he was keeping as a souvenir from when he killed a dragon before. "What?" she said in disbelief. "Why?"

"It's gonna be your strength and stamina training. If we're gonna defeat all bandits and bring peace to Skyrim, I can't afford to have my companion be a weakling. So I want you to carry all of that, _all the way_ to Ivarstead. If you do that, you'll definitely become stronger!"

Lydia sighed, and figured she might as well do it. It wasn't the worst idea, she guessed. "Are you just saying that because you can't be bothered with this stuff? Never mind... As your housecarl, I am sworn to carry your burdens..." Lydia said with an exasperated voice.

"What was that tone?" asked Erland as his brows creased. "Are you guilt-tripping me?"

"No, of _course_ not," replied Lydia sarcastically. "I'm very happy to carry your entire mead collection, your dragon bones, and your weapons, plus all of _my_ stuff, _aaaaall_ the way to Ivarstead."

"See? There's that tone again!"

" _Aaaaall_ the way to Ivarstead... Little old me, carrying all of this..."

"Come on, Lydia, I told you not to be so polite. If you have a problem.-"

"Absolutely no problem at all, _my thane_."

"I told you I hate it when you call- oh, now you're just screwing with me."

The two kept arguing as they walked in the direction of the sunrise, on the road to Ivarstead.

* * *

The Bandit Lord Greira the Spider tightened her goggles as she ever-so-carefully drops a single droplet of her crafted poison into a lab-skeever, whom she kept in a cage. Less than a second after the droplet landed in the skeever's mouth, the skeever's entire body vibrated like an earthquake. It suffered a severe seizure, and then promptly died.

Greira's lips curved into an evil smile. "Success..." she said to herself.

Suddenly, she heard the door open, and in came one of her lackeys. But as soon as that lackey stepped foot inside Greira's room, a couple of giant frostbite spiders blocked his path, glaring at him with their all-black eyes. Towering over the lackey, they clanged their two giant front fangs threateningly, and the lackey could see a little bit of frostbite venom dripping from their mouths. Shaking and with weak knees, the lackey said "I-I'm just here to bring a message from one of our scouts, ma'am." He also waved a scroll as proof.

"Carry on," replied Greira before pressing a button on the side of her strange helmet. It was a helmet which, along with the goggles, was designed to imitate the intimidating looks of an insect. At the press of the button, the antennae attached to the helmet's ear pieces sent out a signal. Then, the giant frostbite spiders' heads visibly vibrated, and then they stood down and retreated back into their corner.

The lackey gulped as he walked towards the Bandit Lord of Whiterun. He had to keep alert of what he was stepping on, because Greira always leaves some of her poison spilled on the ground without caring about how dangerous it is, mostly because she was immune to all poisons and diseases. Thankfully, there was no danger this time, so he was able to hand over the scroll he was carrying.

"You'll find all the details in the scroll, but the bottom line is, Lockjaw's gang was killed, and Valtheim Towers is available for us to take over as our territory," the lackey explained.

"Interesting. Who exactly killed them? They didn't seem to be interested in that territory for whatever reason. Were they a group of bounty hunters?" Greira asked.

"The report says they were killed by one man."

"One man? I find that hard to believe."

"It seems that this man has the power of The Voice."

"The Voice, huh? Interesting," Greira said as she scratched her chin and looked up.

After a brief moment of deliberation, Greira looked at the lackey again, and said, "Have Ace's crew take over the fort. And find out everything you can about this new man with The Voice."

"Yes ma'am," the lackey responded before bowing down.

* * *

Lydia walked across the road, her every step full of effort due to having two _really_ heavy knapsacks strapped to each of her shoulders, two swords attached to each of her hips, and two shields attached to each of her arms. On one hand, Erland's training method was tiring and painful for her entire body, but on the other hand, they do get to rest every five minutes to build up the muscles that she strained.

Erland walked beside her, looking out for any dangers on the road, occasionally sprinting, shadow-boxing, and practicing his shout. Just because Lydia was the one doing the heavy lifting doesn't mean he shouldn't be trying to get stronger as well.

"There's just one question that's been on my mind since I met you," Lydia said. "Why were you in Whiterun? What happened after the dragon attacked Helgen and before I became your housecarl? And more importantly, _how in Oblivion did you kill that dragon?_ Okay, I lied I'm sorry, that was three questions. It's just, your backstory barely explained a thing to me."

"Ahh so you want me to continue my story, is that it?" asked Erland.

"Y-Yeah, basically," replied Lydia hesitantly. "I mean, it's a long way to Ivarstead and we got nothing to do but walk."

"Alright then. I'm in the mood right now," Erland said. "Get ready though, cause this one's gonna be a doozy! I'll tell you every single detail of my journey from Helgen to Whiterun, and eventually to meeting you."

"I'm ready, Erland," Lydia replied.

"Now where was I? Oh yeah, I went underground with the rebel fella' and his neighboor in order to escape the black dragon. We went through an underground tunnel, and some stuff happened that's really not important. Eventually we got out of the tunnel and the light of Skyrim's _beauuuutiful_ sunset greeted us, as we saw the dragon flying far, far away. That's when I realized we were all pretty much breathless during the whole ordeal, because after we saw that the dragon was no longer chasing us, we breathed a sigh of relief so heavy we could blow a house down. We all had a good laugh about what happened. I mean, this was gonna be _the_ story we'd tell our grandchildren. How many people can say 'I was in the village where a dragon appeared and destroyed everything by making it rain fire'?

"The two fellas introduced themselves to me right then and there; the rebel fella' was named Ralof, and the other man was an Imperial soldier named Hadvar. Apparently they were best friends. I introduced myself as well, and then asked where I can buy a drink because I needed something _reeeeaal_ heavy after that."

"Hold on!" Lydia interrupted. "An Imperial and a Stormcloak rebel were best friends? This didn't seem the least bit curious to you?"

"Well obviously, I was never involved in any of this civil war stuff. All I saw was two best friends relieved that they had survived."

"I... well..." Lydia struggled to reach for words. "I guess that's another way of looking at things."

"So anyway, they immediately wanted to run to Riverwood, because that was their home and they wanted to warn everyone about the dragon. With nowhere to go, I had to run with them. We dashed like mad dogs towards their hometown, yada yada we eventually got there. And when we did, we warned everyone, explained everything, told our story and what have you, and that was that. Ralof's sister sent a courier to the Jarl of Whiterun asking for guards. The rebel fella' Ralof let me stay at his place for a few days, and I was employed by Hadvar's uncle as a blacksmith.

"After some time, I got word from one of the residents that the courier was killed by bandits before he could get to Whiterun, which meant the Jarl never received our message, which meant we were still defenseless. So I thought, 'Well, I'm tougher than some scrawny courier. I can probably fight off a couple of measly thieves.' So I offered to be the one to go instead."

"That was very brave of you," Lydia remarked. "So that's why you were in Whiterun? Was that when the dragon attacked?"

"More or less, yeah. I arrived at the Whiterun gates and was greeted by a guard, and he told me the city was closed due to the news about dragons. That made no sense to me. It's not like a dragon can fit through the gate anyways. Did they think that dragons can be sneakily smuggled by a shady merchant? But whatever. I told him I'm a survivor from Helgen, and Riverwood calls for the Jarl's aid. The guard said 'Riverwood's in danger, too? You'd better come on in.'

"So I was escorted by the guard up to the Jarl's palace. I got up there, told the Jarl about the dragon attack, then asked for guards for Riverwood, and the Jarl agreed. Yada, yada, I did what the Riverwood folks told me to do and it all went well.

"And then suddenly this soldier showed up in the Jarl's palace looking dry and dehydrated, and his clothes were partially burned. He said a dragon was attacking the Western Watchtower on the outskirts of Whiterun so he ran to the Jarl as fast as he could.

"Immediately, this dark elf woman wearing leather armor - who looked to be the Jarl's personal housecarl - took charge of the situation. I can't seem to remember her name that well. What was it again? Bearlet?"

"Irileth."

"Right. Irileth took charge. She pressed the soldier for details, asking for where it came from, what it was doing... And then afterwards, she turned to the jarl and said, 'My jarl, I'm off to gather my men and take care of this dragon menace.'

"And then the Jarl had this crazy idea to have me go along with Irileth and her men to help fight the dragon, telling me 'You survived Helgen, so you have more experience than anyone else here.' I don't know why he said that, I mean, my entire experience with a dragon was to run because I couldn't kill it and it's literally destroying the village. I had roughly the same experience as that guard who delivered the news."

Erland could only scratch his head as he said that last part.

"Yeah, the Jarl is a brilliant leader with a kind heart, but sometimes he says the most random things," Lydia remarked in agreement. "So how did you guys kill the dragon in the Western Watchtower?"

"It wasn't easy, I can tell you that. I don't even know where to begin describing how powerful a dragon is. Imagine you were there, and you saw the dragon flying. If you're gonna go about killing it, what's the first thing you try?"

"I guess, since it's flying..." Lydia scratched her chin. "I shoot an arrow?"

"Yeah, your arrow is just gonna bounce off of its skin. You would not have even annoyed it. I know because that's what we tried at first. We made it _rain_ arrows at the dragon, and it did absolutely nothing.

"I guess _then_ you'd be thinking, 'what if I challenge the dragon to fight at the ground'? And then-"

"I wouldn't even think of doing that to a dragon!" Lydia exclaimed, almost offended. "That would be stupid!"

"Well that's what I did! Ha ha ha! I yelled at the dragon to fight fairly. And the best part is, it actually understood what I was saying! It landed on the ground right in front of me, and we looked at each other in the eye."

"By the Divines, what were you thinking?!"

"I had no idea what I was doing. But I had to try _something_. So anyway, Irileth, the soldiers, and I swarmed the dragon from all sides and started whacking at it with our swords and maces and whatever. Some of the soldiers were so ineffective they might as well have come at it armed with a banana. But some of us were strong enough could hurt it. It's hard, like you have to go at it with the weight of your entire body, but it's doable. I was able to crack its scales, for example.

"So then, the dragon was annoyed enough to smack everyone with its wings and tail and send everyone surrounding him flying. Loud screams when it happened. Some bones were probably shattered. As for me, I was whacking the dragon on the head out in front, so I didn't get hit by the wings or tail. But that was when the dragon decided to shout at me. I didn't understand what it said, but it might have been dragon language for 'Get your filthy hairy self outta my face!' because that shout sent me flying away a hundred miles an hour! I crashed into the stone wall of the watchtower and made a hole the size of a bear! Ha ha!

"Every single muscle in my body was aching as I dusted myself off and tried to stand up, and I could hear the other soldiers panicking, saying 'Shit! It has The Voice!' and 'Just like Ulfric Stormcloak!' and 'We're so fucking dead!' I also heard Irileth trying to calm them down, saying 'Don't panic! We haven't even given this thing all we've got!'

"After that bit of display of the dragon's power, it must have thought, 'Screw this fair fight shit, these milk-drinkers are swarming me' and then flew up out of our reach again. And then it started spitting fireballs at us from afar like a cheap, dishonorable bastard. It was seriously annoying; it was just throwing fire at us and we couldn't do a thing to attack it. I tried yelling 'Gods damn you, come back down! That's cheating!' but it wouldn't come back down.

"Thankfully, the fireballs dropped slowly enough that we could see it coming and avoid it, but damn was it frustrating not being able to fight back.

"I looked around looking for something... _anything_ we could use against the dragon. There was the tall watchtower, there were plants, grass... For a while there I was thinking, 'This place is so fucking plain! There's nothing to use here!' but suddenly something caught my eye. A glimmer of hope in this seemingly hopeless battle: I saw a catapult."

"A catapult?" Lydia said, her eyebrows raised. "You mean you just launched some rocks at the dragon?"

"No, of course I didn't launch some rocks," Erland said, shaking his head. "There weren't any rocks to launch. The catapult was appareny just something the guards confiscated from a bunch of Stormcloaks."

"Oh? But what did you use the catapult for?"

"I launched _myself_ , of course," Erland nonchalantly replied.

"You're even crazier than I originally thought. And that's saying something."

"Oh I'm sorry I can't hear you over how awesome that was!" Erland replied with a huge grin on his face. "It wasn't as simple as aiming at the dragon and releasing the catapult, of course. The dragon was flying around in all sorts of directions. A catapult is a powerful contraption against forts or castle walls, but for hitting a moving target? It was _terrible_.

"The entire reason I was able to use it at all is because of Irileth. Turns out she knows some powerful magic. I mean _powerful_ , like, enough to actually _hurt_ the dragon. She climbed to the top of the tower, and then shot fireballs from her hands. And I don't mean like those measly little pebbles that you see the court wizard juggle. I'm talking fire- _boulders_. Like, larger than Irileth's entire person. And when it hit the dragon, it exploded and made thundering sounds that - I assume - made every mammoth, bear, and giant in the Whiterun plains run away reflexively, thinking, _'I don't know what in Oblivion was that, but I want no part of it!'_

"Seeing what seemed to be the first believable threat, the dragon flew a little lower, its head at level with the top of the Watchtower where Irileth stood.

"That's the exact moment I decided to release the catapult ropes and launch myself at the dragon. I gotta say, I almost pissed my pants there, flying at that height, knowing you're either gonna miss and go splat on the ground, or land on a giant monster. You're right it was _way_ _crazy_. But when I flew through the air, I saw something even more horrific.

"The dragon shouted again. The same shout that sent me flying, it used on Irileth. What came out of the dragon's mouth rang cleary in my ears. I had no idea what it means, but the moment the sound waves hit Irileth, she was flung off of the tower, and was going to fall into the ground.

"My face went from piss-my-pants scared to righteous fury in a fraction of a second. I know I just met Irileth, but seriously, every word that comes out of her mouth is badass. I respected her like crazy, and it made me angry seeing her die.

"Now, because Irileth's distraction made the dragon a little more stationary, I was able to land on one of its wings and grab hold of it. With one hand keeping a tight grip on the edge of the dragon's wing, I angrily and repeatedly stabbed the wings with my other hand. The wings were a little easier to punch through than the actual scales in its body. I maneuvered myself around the wings and stabbed it everywhere. I moved and stabbed, moved and stabbed. I stabbed and stabbed and stabbed as if my mother took away all of my mead. I made sure there were so many holes in that bastard's wings it'll look like a fishing net.

"Do you know how birds fly, Lydia? They fly by letting the air push them up through the wings. If you poke enough holes in the wings, the air won't be able to push them up properly, so they won't be able to fly. That's exactly what happened to the dragon after a few minutes of stabby stabby with my sword.

"The dragon's flight became really unstable, enough that it hit its head on the watchtower. And boy was I glad no one was up there because the dragon shook the foundations of the watchtower, and it became a little shaky and it leaned backwards a bit.

"Eventually the dragon nosedove and crash-landed on the ground below, dragging me along with it. While it was a really rough landing for both of us, the gigantic dragon body cushioned the fall a bit for me. However, the crash created a dust cloud big enough that I couldn't see a thing, so for a while I was just walking around unsure of what's going on.

"When the dust settled, I saw an insanely furious, absolutely livid dragon face only inches away from me. The thing was _not_ happy about what I did to its wing. Seeing the dragon's face... it looked like it was gonna revenge-fuck my corpse until my ancestors became pregnant.

"The dragon opened its mouth and shouted at me so hard it felt like I flew through fifty different planes of Oblivion. The back of my head hit something that felt like stone, and I fell down to the ground like a ragdoll.

"At that point I don't even think I was at full control of my body. As I was struggling to stand up, the remaining parts of my brain that wasn't scrambled took a look around and tried to process what was happening. The watchtower was behind me, and it looks like it's what I hit when I was sent flying. Out in front of me, the remaining soldiers were bravely fighting on, though I knew it was futile. The dragon just sent them all away in one sweep of its tail. It felt like we were a bunch of dogs fighting a mammoth, you know?

"Then I heard a dark elf voice from beside me ask 'Any more ideas?'

"I turned to see who it was, and I couldn't believe it. It was Irileth! I asked how she survived. Turns out she knew a spell that can make her fall like a feather. What a nice utility, eh? I guess she _has_ to have a tool for everything in order to protect the Jarl from all sorts of threats.

"I told her I had no idea what to do anymore. I leaned my back against the watchtower behind me to catch my breath a bit. And then I felt the tower wobble a bit. It was really unstable when it was hit by the dragon.

"And that's when an idea popped up in my head again. I told Irileth to get the dragon in _that_ spot, a very particular spot. And I also told her I needed the other soldiers away from the dragon.

"Irileth made another gigantic fireball, held it over her head, and said 'Leave it to me.'

"Are you excited, Lydia? It's Irileth versus a dragon! Ha ha ha!"

"I actually am!" Lydia said excitedly, her face lighting up. "What happened next? What was your plan?"

"After getting everyone's attention with a fireball to the dragon's face, Irileth shouted at her men to retreat, and the soldiers did so. And then there was some epic back and forth between Irileth and the dragon. The dragon would swipe with its tail, strike with its wings, and bite with its teeth, but Irileth had drank a Potion of Light Feet beforehand and was bouncing all around the dragon like she was made of rubber, avoiding all of the dragon's attacks, while also throwing some fire of her own.

"Not taking away from the dragon, of course. It was still a damned dragon, and while Irileth could _hurt_ it, make it flinch and all, the dragon didn't look like it was gonna be beaten.

"After a while though, Irileth was able to lure the dragon to the spot like I said. But that's when the dragon said 'Scew this!' and shouted again, sending Irileth flying away again. But this time, I was at the side, and it was time for my plan to come together. Are you ready, Lydia? You wanna know what I did?"

"What did you do? What did you do?" Lydia said excitedly.

"You remember how the watchtower was unstable and was already leaning back? I pushed it with all my might, and collapsed it on top of the dragon. Crushed it flat."

"Seriously!?"

"Yeah, seriously," said Erland. "Well not _flat_. The dragon's bones must have been nigh-indestructible; you can't flatten it. But you don't need to break bones to kill something. The concussion is what killed it."

"Still, it takes some serious strength to push the watchtower like that, even with it being already unstable," said Lydia. "What happened next?"

"After the tower collapsed and crumbled on top of the dragon, we slowly and carefully walked towards what we _hoped_ was a massive corpse to clean up. Beneath the shattered bricks and piles of dust, we could make out the head of the dragon. I looked at all the guards, and it seemed no one was willing to get closer to check if it was truly dead. But I don't blame 'em. They've been bravely taking blows from the dragon's wings and tails all this time, and admirably kept getting back up, but pain in their bodies had to be taking its toll right now. I understand why they'd be scared.

" _Someone_ had to check if it was alive though, so I stepped forward. There was a lot of tension when I kept creeping closer and closer. Everyone had their breaths held. You could practically hear the soldiers biting their fingernails, pouring out nervous sweat...

"Then the dragon suddenly glowed, and you can imagine everyone's reaction, ranging from small yelp to full squee, to even tripping over their own feet and falling over! Ha ha! Those milk drinkers.

"Anyways, it glowed and glowed, and then from its dead body came out something ethereal. Some glowing apparition in the shape of the dragon who died. There was no mistake about it, that was the dragon's soul.

"And then suddenly, the dragon's soul got deformed, and entered my body as though it was being sucked in!

"It's hard to describe how I felt when that happened, but so many memories were flashing in my head.

"I saw the dragon shouting another dragon away, like it did to me and Irileth.

"I saw it bowing down to a larger, ebony-scaled dragon.

"I saw it struggling against human warriors.

"I saw it shouting its enemies away again.

"I saw it dying to the blade of a human.

"I saw it rise again.

"And I kept seeing it shout and shout and shout.

"My eyesight, my hearing, my taste... all of my senses were feeling overloaded, as if I was experiencing everything that happened in the dragon's lifetime in an instant. There was pride, there was hunger, there was bloodlust, there was pain, there was the will to dominate... I felt the entire world was pushing against me, and I desperately wanted to push back. And then, after a few seconds, I shouted.

" _ **FUS!**_ "

In unison with the story, Erland actually did use The Voice in front of Lydia, and she could only say "Wow" in response. The story of her friend was already exciting by itself, but Erland definitely raised her excitement by how dramatic he was in narrating everything. This man wouldn't feel out of place as a bard, she figured.

"I had no idea what 'Fus' means," Erland continued. "But when I shouted it, the dragon corpse in front of me was suddenly pushed away a bit, scattering the debris from the broken tower. I actually used the dragon's shout powers! Although it wasn't as strong."

"So _that's_ why you could use The Voice. You absorbed a dragon's soul," said Lydia. "How did the guards react? That sounds ridiculously fantastic. Their jaws must have dropped."

"Oh it was like they saw a ghost! Ha ha ha!" Erland replied cheerfully, in stark contrast to his dramatic narration just a few seconds ago. "Their eyes were wider than Irileth's fireballs! They were all shouting 'You took its very soul!' and 'I can't believe it!' and 'Dragonborn!'

"I was just standing there dumbfounded, saying 'What in Oblivion is a Dragonborn?'

"The guards explained to me what a Dragonborn is. You know what it is, right? The guards were arguing about some of the details, and I wasn't really listening, but basically, Dragonborns are people from old tales who can kill dragons and steal their power, right?

"That's right," Lydia assured. "I've been reading a lot of books during my down time, back when I was still a mercenary. So I know about Dragonborn. But they haven't been relevant as dragon killers for centuries. I've read that most of the previous emperors were Dragonborn, but there were no tales of them killing dragons. There were tales of shouting, though, and-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, anyways," Erland interrupted. "The guards think I'm a Dragonborn. I had no idea what's going on. What happened next wasn't very exciting. Basically, Irileth and I went back to the Jarl and reported everything, including me _possibly_ being Dragonborn. The Jarl suggested that I go to Ivarstead and meet with the Greybeards to confirm. Best case, I confirm that I really am Dragonborn, and the Greybeards teach me how to better use The Voice. Worst case? I find out I'm not Dragonborn, and I have to beg the Greybeards to teach me how to better use The Voice.

"After that, you know what happened. The people hailed me as a hero, the Jarl made me a thane, and assigned you as my housecarl. And then we became friends. There. All caught up. Are you satisfied now, Lydia?"

"Oh, I'm not sure..." Lydia said. "At the start of your story, you said you were arrested by the Imperials for crossing the border. Why were you crossing the border?"

"You wanna know about _that_?" Erland said in a surprised tone. "That's... a story for another time. I'm tired now. Let's take a rest."

* * *

Elsewhere in Skyrim, in a road a little ways from Lydia and Erland, there was a mugging taking place.

A bandit put his knife forward against an unlucky wanderer. "Alright, hand over your valuables, or I'll gut you like a fish."

The traveller - a lone, unarmed blonde Nord, wearing a vest over a simple long-sleeved shirt and not even any armor (easy pickings for a mugger!) - calmly ignored the bandit and kept walking, holding his bag over his shoulder, swaying and humming, as if the bandit wasn't even there.

"Don't you walk away from me!" demanded the bandit as he ran towards the traveller with his knife forward.

The wanderer noticed the sound of angry footsteps from behind. He dropped his bag, whirled around 180 degrees, grabbed his attacker's wrist, clenched his fist, and delivered a devastating right hook on the left side of the bandit's face. It all happened within half a second.

Upon impact of the wanderer's fist on the bandit's jaw, the bandit limped like a doll and fell down to the ground.

The wanderer calmly took the bag he dropped, and said, "Don't try that again."

After a few seconds of the bandit's brain trying to put itself back together, he was able to mutter out, "Wh-Who in Oblivion are you... You hit worse than a warhammer..."

"I'm a simple bard. Not anyone special," the other man replied with a smile. "I sing about heroes, but I'm wouldn't call myself one. But if you _must_ know my name, you may call me Talsgar."

 _To be continued..._


End file.
